Flames
by BlackFyre94
Summary: Rated T for moderate violence: Merlin inadvertently reveals his secret, meaning death and destruction as Morgana dreams of flames and fire...
1. Dream

**This is stupidly short chapter 'coz it's not really part of the story but I thought I'd include it anyway.**

**I don't own Merlin, it unfortunatley belongs to the BBC**

**WARNING: Torture, violence, etc (next chapter. Or maybe the one after. Haven't decided)**

**SPOILERS: Is set after the last episode but there's not really any spoilers (I don't think).**

Pillars of fire lit the midnight sky for miles around as Camelot was slowly destroyed and huge, grotesque, flickering shadows danced among the flames. Walls toppled, houses, animals, peasants and nobility alike died shrieking as the fire consumed them, always ravenous, never slowing, never faltering in its inexorable advance. And in the middle of the dead and the dying was a figure, his red shirt splattered with blood, raising his wide, blue eyes to the heavens as he burned in silence.

Morgana screamed and sat bolt-upright as the shreds of her nightmare clung to her like cobwebs of night. Her breath came in sobs and gasps as the vivid images faded slowly from her mind, although the terror they instilled still remained. Gwen was at her side in an instant – she had started to sleep on the floor in Morgana's room since the nightmares had begun to get worse, despite Morgana's protests.

"Gwen" she said, hoarsely.

"I'm here" Gwen said and sat down beside her. "It's okay, it was just a dream. Just a dream".

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	2. Hangover

**Sorry, it's another lickle baby chapter again but I promise it'll get good soon :)**

Merlin yelled as the icy water hit him and immediately wished he hadn't. His head was pounding and he felt like death warmed up and left to congeal, a result of the heavy drinking at the feast the previous night – a new knight had proved himself worthy of defending Camelot and Uther had called a celebration for him. Merlin opened his eyes blearily and the feeble sunlight leaking in through the window was enough to make them water as he swung himself out of bed. Or, at least, tried to. Without quite knowing how, he landed on the floor, all the breath knocked out of him, and with a lump forming on his head where he had hit his small table on the way down. A stream of profanities issued from his mouth as he tried without success to extricate himself from the blanket wrapped around him. A loud _thud _reverberated through the floor and he turned to glare at the inconsiderate person who was deliberately exacerbating the effects of his mother-of-all-hangovers. He stopped, mid-curse as he saw Arthur standing there, clutching at his sides in fits of helpless laughter, an empty bucket at his feet.

Ten minutes later, Merlin was staring into a beaker of some indescribable slop, horror plastered on his face. It went _gloop_ at him.

"You want me to _drink _this?!?!?"

"Trust me" said Gaius. "It'll get rid of the hangover. Even if it does taste particularly foul" he grinned and heaved one his books down from a shelf onto a table, sending up a huge cloud of dust.

Merlin took a deep breath and downed the contents of the beaker. Gaius watched, fascinated, as Merlin's face ran through a variety of different expressions, making some faces he didn't even think were possible. Finally, Merlin swallowed, determined not to be sick, and found to his surprise that he did feel a lot better.

"Now that that's dealt with, I need you to go and collect me some supplies"

"What for?" asked Merlin, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste of the vile concoction.

"Morgana's been having nightmares again and the sleeping draught I prescribed for her just isn't strong enough" Gaius frowned. "It's strange really. It's always worked before and Gwen assured me that Morgana's been taking it but the dreams are just getting worse. Anyway, this is quite a rare plant; they won't have it in at the market. You'll have to go and find it; it should grow in the forest."

Merlin looked out of the window and groaned inwardly. The rain fell in great sheets, the roaring of thousands of tiny droplets hitting the ground drowning out all other noise. This wasn't going to be pleasant.


	3. Discovery

**Okidoki, the story starts now :)**

Merlin hurried on through the rain. His clothes and hair were plastered to him, the rain kept running into his eyes and he couldn't see his hand in front of his face; the rain effectively blinded him. There was nobody else about – everyone else had more sense – and normally he would have flatly refused to even consider setting foot out of the door. But this was Morgana. She was his friend; she'd always helped him out of trouble before.

"Merlin!" He jumped, startled, as a voice sounded out just behind him. He turned and, to his surprise, saw Gwen, her hood pulled up as meagre protection from the rain. She came a little closer and he saw that she looked exhausted.

"Gwen, why aren't you indoors?" Wow, she _really _didn't look well.

"I'm coming with you" she said, in a tone that gave no mention of the merest possibility of an argument. "Morgana is my friend as well, and besides, it's the only way I'll get any sleep"

With that, she set off and Merlin quickly caught her up, lest he lose her in the blinding torrent.

* * *

"You found anything yet?" Both couldn't help but think that this was a fool's errand. They couldn't see each other, let alone a tiny flower that could be hidden anywhere in the vast expanse of woodland that surrounded Camelot. But neither wanted to give up now – Morgana's screams haunted the castle at night, echoing down the corridors, invading the sleep of everyone that lived there, tainting the sweetest dreams, turning them to the most horrific nightmares.

Gwen heard a crashing noise over the fall of the rain, heard a scream of terror. And then nothing.

"Merlin? Merlin?"

Merlin flailed wildly, grasping frantically at something, anything that would have stopped his fall. One minute he had been in the forest, looking for that damned plant, the next he tripped, slipping and sliding, hurtling down a slope of thick mud made slick by the unrelenting rain. He could just hear Gwen's voice over the pounding of the rain and called out to her. He didn't know why; there was nothing she could do. He would have used his magic to stop his descent, or at least to slow it down but his mind was blank, save one thought spiralling round and round in his brain. Before he lost his balance and fell, he saw nothing. That was it. Nothing. The slippery slope he was on led straight to the sheer edge of a cliff, where jagged rocks like the teeth of a ravenous beast lay in wait for him.

_I'm going to die. I'm going to die._

* * *

They both froze. Gwen, at the top of the slope that Merlin had fallen down, teetering perilously, her hands raised in shock and horror to her mouth. And there, his golden eyes throwing eerie shadows across the trees, was Merlin.

Suspended fifty feet in the air.

**Reviews and concrit mucho appreciated :)**


	4. Murderer

**Wow, two chapters in one day. I'm on a roll :)**

Merlin ran. He could see the hem of her red cloak disappear through the trees and he put on an extra burst of speed. A tree root that he could have sworn wasn't there before caught his foot and he fell heavily, skinning both his knees and his palms. Cursing his natural clumsiness and pushing the pain to the back of his mind, he ran on. His long legs caught up with Gwen easily and he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to a stop.

"Gwen" he pleaded. "Gwen, please, it's still me. It's still Merlin. I'm still your friend"

She turned to face him for the first time and he saw tears streaming down her face, mingling with the raindrops running from her sodden cloak.

"No Merlin" she said softly. "You're not the same anymore. You're a murderer, Merlin".

He let go of her wrist, shocked, stunned, staring at her in disbelief. "What…what…" he stuttered, unable to get the words out past the lump in his throat.

"I won't turn you in Merlin" she said. "You've been a good friend to me, and you saved my father from the plague; I can't deny your intentions were good. But I nearly died because of your magic. I thought at the time that you were so caring, so concerned for others all the time, when you promised to save me, to get me out, to help me" Her voice turned mocking, bitter, twisted. "But how do I know you weren't just satisfying your own guilty conscience?"

"Gwen, I would never-" he stopped, aware that anything he said sound like a pitiful excuse. Which was strange – he was who he was. He couldn't change that, much as he would like to.

"And when we went back to Ealdor, to defend them from Kanen and his men" she continued, lost in thought, in memories, her eyes gazing at nothing. "It was you that drove them off, not Will. How many died Merlin? How many did you kill in cold blood?"

She might as well have stabbed him, have driven a knife deep into his chest and twisted it. It would have hurt a lot less. He couldn't breathe, was drowning in blood, the blood of those he had killed, the blood of those whose deaths he had yet to cause. His hands were stained with blood, blood of those that were hardly innocent, but they had a right to live, and he had ripped that away from them. And all to save one person, who would never know and probably wouldn't care about the sacrifices being made for him.

"Leave me alone, Merlin" she whispered. "I don't want to see you again". With that, she turned and ran once more, until she was lost in the rain.

* * *

Merlin stayed, numb, empty, broken inside, until night began to fall. He looked with murderer's eyes down at murderer's hands and he was repulsed by the vile thing he had become.

_Murderer_

_Murderer_

**Aww, bless 'im. Reviews, concrit, etc, all welcome :)**


	5. Penance

Time lost all meaning for the murderer, as he lay in the mud, and the filth. He was cold, soaked to the bone, but that was no less than the murderer deserved. That was his penance, his punishment for being who he was. Murderer.

Gradually, time, sight, sound returned to Merlin as he became aware again. And he cried, great shuddering sobs wracking his body as the tears fell to the ground from his eyes. Suddenly, blinding pain shot up his side and he was knocked, sprawling, flat on his back. He stared up into a man's face and it grinned humourlessly down at him. The man had chocolate brown eyes and chocolate skin; he could almost have been Gwen's twin.

"You know my sister?" he asked, casually, as if enquiring about the weather. At the same time, he gestured to the two men standing behind him and they grabbed Merlin's arms, hauling him up to stand, pinned, between them. The brown-skinned man leant over slightly – he stood a whole head and shoulders above Merlin – and spoke again. "My name's Halwyn. Guinevere is my little sister". Halwyn nodded to the two restraining Merlin and they stepped back. Halwyn lashed out, punching Merlin in the stomach. Merlin doubled over, gasping for breath and Halwyn brought a knee up into his face. Merlin was thrown on to the floor again as he felt his nose shatter, and his mouth was filled with the sharp taste of blood where he had bitten his tongue.

"What did you do to my sister?" he heard Halwyn demand through the pain clouding his mind.

Merlin spat blood from his mouth so he could answer. "I didn't…do anything" he managed.

He heard the cracking, snapping, crunching of small bones a split second before the agony hit him. Halwyn had stamped on Merlin's out flung wrist with one heavy boot, grinding his heel into the floor. Merlin heard a shrill scream echo back from the trees – his own.

Halwyn reached down and grasped the front of Merlin's shirt with one hand, effortlessly lifting him of the floor until they stared eye to eye.

"My sister comes home" Halwyn growled "in floods of tears. Inconsolable she was. All we could get out of her was a name. Your name"

Merlin knew at that moment that Gwen had signed his death warrant. She hadn't turned him in, and for that at least, he was grateful, but she had killed him all the same. A bitter smile twisted his lips – murderer.

As he lay there, everything was right. As he screamed, as he felt his bones shatter and break, his skin tear and bleed, the pain, the agony – all of it was right. This was his punishment, his penance. They would kill him and he wouldn't be a murderer anymore. Darkness flickered around the edges of his vision, like black fires threatening to blind him from the world and the pain became distant, unfocused.

The murderer slid happily into the sweet embrace of the darkness.


	6. Death

**Hi guys. Sorry it's taken so mega-uber-long to get thos next chapter up. I was kinda toying with two different endings to this chapter. But it's done now.**

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Gaius was worried. The day had dawned, fresh and clear, the air clean from the rain the previous day. The sun shone and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Everything was perfect. Except that Merlin hadn't come home yesterday. Gaius hurried along the corridor, along to Arthur's chambers. He rapped on the door and entered without waiting for a reply.

"Sire" he said, pushing open the door. "Sire, have you seen Merlin?" He found he was talking to an empty room. Cursing under his breath, he left, closing the door behind him.

When he got to Moragan's chambers, he could hear voices, so he knocked and went in.

Morgana was sitting on the bed, her eyes dark pits, hollows of madness, despair, horror. Arthur was sitting next to her, an arm around her shoulders. Her plight had affected them all in some way – everyone admired, if not liked, the young, beautiful woman who would stand up to anyone for the sake of her friends.

"Sire" Gaius said. "Have you seen Merlin?"

Arthur looked up and frowned. "No, I haven't, I haven't seen him since yesterday" The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered the expression on Merlin's face yesterday morning. "I just assumed he had slept in again"

Leaving Morgana trembling on her bed, Arthur rose and came to stand next to Gaius.

"I sent him to the woods yesterday morning. I came across a recipe for a new sleeping draught – I was going to prescribe it to the Lady Morgana. But Merlin never came back"

Arthur didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. First Morgana's nightmares – and she refused to tell him what they were about, she would only mutter that they were coming closer, and closer – and now Merlin was missing.

"I'll go find him" he heard himself say. "You look after Morgana; see if there's anything you can do for her"

*

The trail was easy enough to follow. The footprints had set into the thick mud but there were far too many for one person – at least three, maybe four people had passed that way. Arthur sped up, his heart quickening as he fought to keep panic under control. Much as he pretended otherwise, he had grown to like Merlin – they were friends.

He stopped, and the world stopped with him, everything frozen in time as he tried to understand what had happened.

There was a figure, sprawled on the floor, mangled arms and legs flung out at impossible angles. The figure was drenched in blood, covered in cuts and bruises, only recognisable by the red scarf and blue shirt that had become familiar to Arthur over the long months.

He was running, even before his brain had registered what was going on.

"Merlin, Merlin, o god, wake up, please wake up" He wanted to look away from Merlin's mutilated form but he couldn't. He had to help. Gently, gently, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, he brushed Merlin's hair from his face. He caught Merlin's wrist to feel for a pulse and bit back a scream of horror as the crushed fragments of bone ground together in his grasp. This was bad. Really really bad. Arthur gingerly placed two fingers on Merlin's neck, like Gaius had taught him to do long ago. There was nothing. No pulse, no heartbeat. Nothing. Arthur checked that he had got the right place on his own neck, feeling warm blood coursing through his body, and then checked Merlin again. Nothing. Merlin, his friend – hell, his only friend - was dead.

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**Merlin dying is kinda a recurring theme in my fics. Including the soon-to-be-published ones. But hey :). Review it please :)**


	7. Author's Note

**Author's Note: (Sorry about this) Right, I've been re-reading and re-writing, etc and I don't like the way this story is headed to where I want it to go (wth?). It'd be the same at the end but the way I've decided to do it cuts out most of the cr*p that would have ended up in the middle of the fic. So, getting to the point, I've edited the last chapter and cut bits out and things (making it one helluva lot shorter) so READ THAT before you read the next chapter (will be uploaded in let's say, 30 minutes)**

**Cheers**

**BlackFyre x**


	8. Everything Will Be Okay

**Okidoki, two points. Firstly, where's my manners? Always say "please" and "thank you", right? Well I forgot, so, sowwi and much thanks to EternallyElla, Shadows, CB93, Katherine Moonhawk and dimesions-in-space for reviewing :) *hands out cookies*. Secondly, here's the next chapter. Slightly angst-y. I think it's the longest chapter so far as well :) but still stupidly short *frowns* oh well. Enjoy.**

_One step at a time _thought Arthur as he trudged wearily through the thick mud, Merlin's body cradled in his arms. _One step at a time_. There were no tears, no tears for his murdered friend. Tears were a sign of weakness, perfectly acceptable for those of lower status but not for the Crown Prince of Camelot. Emotions were nothing more than leverage for others to use against you. Happiness, sorrow, misery, despair – they all had to be carefully locked away in the darkest corners of the heart, mind and soul; they could never see the light of day. A long, long time ago, a young prince Arthur had cried himself to sleep each night in secret with nobody to comfort him, weeping for the love of his ever-distant father that he so desperately craved, mourning the loss of the mother he had never known and hoping against hope that one day, everything would change. But as the years passed, the prince seemed to grow out of human emotions, casting them aside and discarding them like a coat that no longer fitted. He became no more than the tool that Uther used to wage his war on magic. Uther would demand someone brought under arrest for the crime of using magic and Arthur would carry out his orders, watch the person – as likely to be innocent as not – be executed by a nameless, faceless man whilst all the time, there was a part of him that was screaming inside. And the worst part? He didn't even know it.

A tree root caught his foot, deliberately it seemed, and Arthur stumbled then fell. He twisted at the last second so Merlin's body landed on top of him, out of the mud when they both hit the ground, and then wondered why he had bothered. Merlin wouldn't be thanking him any time soon. For a moment, he contemplated just lying there in the cold, never having to struggle through another day of his life again. He could just forget it all, forget the world, forsake and forget the world of the living, leaving it behind him. Drawing on reserves of willpower he didn't know he possessed, Arthur clambered laboriously to his feet, balancing precariously on one knee, Merlin's body still held in his arms. He had to get Merlin back to Camelot, and then everything would be okay. Everything would be okay.

* * *

It was a hellish, nightmarish trip. Arthur felt like he was going round and round the forest in an endless circle, with no sight of the end. The trees clutched at him with their long, thin fingers, trying time and time again to trip him, or to rip Merlin's body from his arms. The whole forest was closing in around him and claustrophobia was starting to wrap its tendrils around his mind, heralding the twin arrivals of panic and fear. Eventually, exhausted, filthy, bloodied and bruised from his numerous falls, Arthur broke free of the confines of the forest and found his feet on the path to Camelot, the castle watched over by the blood red sky that was the beginnings of sunset – the beginning of the end, the birth of the death of the day. He didn't notice the guards sprinting up to him, firing their incessant questions at him and he tightened his hold on Merlin when they tried to take the body of his friend from him but spoke no word to them. A large crowd had gathered in the courtyard of the castle by the time Arthur's slow steps had carried him to it. His eyes picked out Uther in the crowd, and Morgana and Gwen, but their expressions didn't register in his mind. He saw Gaius and felt a strange sense of euphoria. He had brought Merlin back and now Gaius could cure him and everything would be okay.

"I brought him back" Arthur said muzzily, swaying on his feet, his soft words barely carrying through the silent night. "I brought him back and now he'll be alright" He looked towards Gaius for reassurance and frowned at the old man's face. He was aware of Gwen starting to cry on Morgana's shoulder, while tears rolled down the Lady's face. Why was no-one rushing to help Merlin? If nobody helped him, he wouldn't…he wouldn't…survive. Arthur looked down at the corpse in his embrace, really looked at him for the first time, took in the grey tinge to the skin, the stiff, unyielding limbs and sank to his knees in anguish. Great, fat tears poured from his eyes, streamed down his face, dropping like rain onto Merlin's bloody face. His shoulders shook and he gasped for breath as his whole body was wracked by heaving sobs. Everyone in the courtyard, every man, woman and child of varying status looked on as their Prince wept, each of them helpless in the face of such raw agony. Loss, despair and pain hit Arthur like a tidal wave and, too exhausted to fight anymore, he sank gratefully into its black depths.

**Bless 'im. Again, reviews and concrit always welcome :)**


	9. Nightmares

**Hiya :) Sorry this chapter took so mega-uber-long to be posted but hey, t'is here now.**

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There was endless darkness, darkness beyond all hope of comfort, or hope. Just the shadows, closing in all around him, imprisoning him behind bars forged from duty, and pride. He was all alone, all alone in a sea of despair, his cries for help unheard, struggling desperately to stay afloat, and all the while, the waves got higher, threatening to drag him down to the depths below…

Arthur woke with a start, sitting bolt-upright in his bed, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes were wide with terror as he willed his rapid breathing to calm, trying in vain to reassure himself over and over that the nightmare was gone. Except it wasn't. The nightmares were still there, along with the ghosts, the spirits of the people he had killed, the people he had murdered on the whim of an uncaring father, hovering always at the very edges of his mind, stalking him, watching him hungrily with their cold, dead eyes, waiting for the day that they could exact their revenge on him. During the day, only the incredible force of his iron will stopped him from breaking down completely, from succumbing to the darkness that weighed down his every step. Every minute he fought them, every second he clawed from their greedy hands was another second, another minute closer to the night, where they roamed his dreams, poisoning his unconscious thoughts. _Murderer _they whispered in his ear. _Murderer_. And one voice stood out so much more than the rest, a voice that he had only ever imagined, a voice that he could never remember hearing. The voice of the mother that he had killed, even as she had given him life. He had been _born _a murderer. It was the destiny laid upon him, before he had even drawn breath – to kill, to destroy, bringer of hate and doom, death and destruction.

Ever since Merlin's death, one long, lonely month before, Arthur had woven a careful façade around him, giving the impression that nothing was wrong, when in actual fact he was numb, dead inside, retreating back inside the shell that he had built up around himself, before Merlin had arrived, casting a welcome ray of light into the darkness, with his jokes, and the independent streak that had been, at times, so frustrating. A fleeting smile flickered across Arthur's face for the first time since…that night…as he remembered the times when Merlin had nearly killed himself for Arthur. Arthur had never had a friend like that before. There were plenty of people that would have - and probably had – died for him, but out of duty, not any real sense of kinship.

Arthur had never thought that losing someone he didn't even know he cared for would have left such an empty space inside him, such a raw, agonising wound that would never truly heal. He just wished he could have spoken to Merlin one last time and told him…well, obviously not that Arthur _cared _for him or anything – he'd never live it down! – but maybe he could have told his…his _friend _that he wasn't a complete idiot, the whole of the time.

Someone hammering on Arthur's door snapped him sharply out of his musings and sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing as he only just realised how tired he really was. By his reckoning, it was still the small hours of the morning, only the grey light of the moon and stars filtering through his window, the day as yet untouched by the first rays of the sun. Unlocking the door, he found Morgana's new handmaiden outside, - Gwen had left suddenly after Merlin's funeral, saying nothing apart from that she had "family business" to attend to, strange considering that her only family was dead – another that Arthur had sent to his death. The girl standing in the corridor– Isabelle – was twisting a lock of her hair round and round her finger, looking like she hadn't had a good night's sleep for weeks. Mind you, he was sure he didn't look any better.

"Morgana?" he asked wryly. She nodded and trailed behind him down the corridor, after waiting for him to grab a shirt to throw on top of his sleeping breeches. Morgana rarely went one night without her recurring nightmare coming back to haunt her – apparently, tonight was no exception. Arthur was the only one that could quiet her once the dreams started, just like when she had first come to live with them, a silent, pale child with staring eyes and raven-black hair, her beauty just beginning to show. Many times had the castle been in uproar over the young prince going missing from his bedchamber, only to be found sitting in a chair, asleep by Morgana's bedside after calming her fears when she woke in the night from terrors that she would never name. As the young prince grew older, more and more responsibility was placed on shoulders that could barely take the weight. Morgana was left to deal with nightmares on her own. Until now.

Arthur pushed open the door to Morgana's room, not bothering to knock. She wouldn't have heard him anyway, so enveloped was she in the clutches of her dream. In three strides, he was at her bedside, and then recoiled slightly in shock. Her eyes, those eyes! They were wide open, wide and staring even as she thrashed and writhed, trapped in whatever hell her own mind had conjured up for her. Pushing aside his feelings of revulsion, he grabbed her shoulders and attempted to shake her awake.

"Morgana" he hissed. "Wake up!" She fought him, flailing wildly in his grasp as the nightmare held her tight, but gradually, her struggles ceased. Relieved, Arthur watched the life enter her eyes again as she calmed down, the last whispers of her dream fading. She looked up at him, her protector, her saviour. And then she screamed.

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**So how was it? Review please :) Even if it's to tell me you hate it, feedback's always appreciated**


	10. Trouble

**OK. So it's been a while. Months. Which really is inexcusable, so I'll ask you to forgive me, and hope there's still someone out there that gives a damn about this fic now. So, here's the next chapter...**

Arthur closed the door to his chambers behind him carefully, refraining from slamming it so hard that the foundations of the castle shook. He pressed a cloth smeared with some foul-smelling concoction that Gaius had given him to his black eye, courtesy of Morgana. She was just as hysterical awake as asleep, refusing to let Arthur anywhere near her. He had left her with Isabelle after the king's ward had given Arthur his bruised and rapidly swelling eye – that, and something chilling to let his already-troubled mind dwell on. Morgana wouldn't say anything about what had reduced her to a sobbing, hysterical wreck, save muttering over and over that it was all Arthur's fault. And that "it" – whatever "it" may be – was coming closer, and closer.

Arthur pushed the quiet nagging doubts to the back of his mind and refused to dwell on that for too much longer. He had more important things to worry about. Namely, surviving the mind-numbing tedium that manifested in the form of his father's meeting with the rulers of the surrounding kingdoms. He knew from bitter experience that such events were predominantly talking, with very little ever being accomplished. And yet it was obviously of paramount importance that he sat through each and every discussion, because the very people who dealt with the running of their respective monarchies each day evidently couldn't function without him standing silent at the back of the room. He sighed and swung his legs off his bed, pulling the cloth away from his eye, wincing slightly as he did. Not that he'd ever admit it, but he was sure that if Morgana ever landed herself in a fist fight of any description, she would more than be able to hold her own. Arthur probed the swollen purpled lump that was his eye gently with his fingers and winced again. That was not going to impress his father.

Back in his room, some hours later, Arthur brooded, troubled. Normally when the kings met, the atmosphere was a little strained, with many a raised voice, accompanied by the sound of a fist striking the table. Today however, Arthur got the impression that hands were never far from the hilts of daggers or swords, that plots and subterfuge shrouded the room and the men within it, that even the air they breathed was tainted with the hint of strife and death that was to come.

He was brought out of his reverie by a timid knock at the door.

"What is it?" he asked, in no mood for pleasantries. He found he was beginning to crave solitude, with nothing but his own thoughts, hopes, fears, desires for company, and started to resent being disturbed.

"It's me" a voice called, its familiar tones laced with exhaustion, and something that Arthur thought might have been…fear?

"Morgana" he was surprised to see her. "Come in." In the past few months, they had become closer than ever before, each relying on the other to be there when no-one else was, but Arthur had thought whatever had grown between them had been destroyed just that morning, when Morgana had blamed him for whatever had reduced her to a pitiful, sobbing wreck.

"I wanted to apologise" she said, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, not meeting Arthur's eye. "My behaviour was inexcusable, and for that, I hope you will forgive me." She was formal, as if addressing a member of court, instead of the man she had thought of as a brother for many years gone by.

"Morgana. You have to tell me. What did you see?" Arthur was worried about his almost-sister. Deep purple shadows under her eyes said that she hadn't had a full night's sleep in far too long, and her clothes hung off her near-emaciated frame. She was silent for a long time, and he thought that once again, she would refuse to tell him. But then she spoke, and what she said chilled his blood.

"I saw a king, a fair king, with hair like spun gold in the sunlight and eyes of a clear sky-blue, and he was beauty and terror, standing tall and strong and he was terrible in his glory. He was crowned with stars and clothed with blood, and sat upon a throne made of the twisted and tortured bodies of the weak and helpless, and around him, in the very air, hung the screams of the broken. And all around him, were flames, burning higher and higher, burning through stone and metal, flesh and bone alike. And he laughed, laughed as his skin peeled away, laughed as his entire body was consumed, laughed as the armour he was wearing melted itself to what remained of him, laughed as his world burned, as floors collapsed and walls caved in around him – laughed as he died."

**Again, I'm really sorry. Honestly. Really really really really really sorry. But please review? Please?**

**8/1/10 - aww, come on, please? Even if you want to tell me that you hate it, and that I should never even touch a keyboard ever ever again, please review...**


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